


Skivvies

by FadedSepia



Series: Mandatory Fun Day Prompts [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Laundry day, M/M, Prompt Fic, Slice of Life, Teasing Bucky, dad jokes and underwear, sharing toothbrushes is weird and I'm not sorry to tell you that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 04:59:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18613642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedSepia/pseuds/FadedSepia
Summary: “Those are mine.”Bucky looked down, nonchalant in his appraisal of the little black briefs sitting low on his hips, before shrugging back at him. “Yeah, looks like...”“That’s my underwear.”“Mmhm.”“You’re wearing my underwear.”“Yup.” Bucky popped the p on his response. His brows lifted slightly as he saluted Clint with his mug, then turned back to watch the clothes spinning inside their respective machines, legs swinging, knocking his heels back against the cabinets.





	Skivvies

**Author's Note:**

> I was literally goaded into writing this halfway through a workday after 3 hours of post-first Endgame viewing sleep. Hopefully, dear reader, it isn't an incoherent nightmare. Thanks for stopping by to give it a glance.

“Those are mine.”

Bucky looked down, nonchalant in his appraisal of the little black briefs sitting low on his hips, before shrugging back at him. “Yeah, looks like...”

“That’s my underwear.”

“Mmhm.”

“You’re wearing my underwear.”

“Yup.” Bucky popped the _p_ on his response. His brows lifted slightly as he saluted Clint with his mug, then turned back to watch the clothes spinning inside their respective machines, legs swinging, knocking his heels back against the cabinets. Barnes’ head, set in his free hand, bobbed slightly in time with the rhythmic spin of the drums. “How are you bothered by this? _You_ were wrapped around my dick two hours ago, but _this_ bothers you?”

“It’s like using my toothbrush, Bucky; it’s _weird_. Except it’s not sexy when you use my toothbrush.” Clint finally dropped the basket of his own laundry onto the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets like he was trying not to fidget. “Seriously, babe: Why are you _wearing_ my _underwear?”_

He sighed loudly, shaking his head. Not the answer he expected, but he could work with it, maybe. “Because it’s Tuesday.” Bucky hopped down, hefting the basket, and dumped the wadded clothes onto the limited counter top. He started dividing out the colours, an easy task with Clint’s wardrobe, making five basic categories of: _black_ , _purple_ , _denim or grey_ , _everything else_ , and _bloody._

He sorted in silence, only turning back to look at Clint when he was finished. “Also, _that_ is what gets to you? Not that I’m standing around in underwear in the _shared_ laundry room, but that they're _your_ undies? I’d say don’t get your panties in a twist, but there’s at least one pair you can’t, right?”

With a grin, he slapped the metal palm of his hand against his own hip, purposely canting his hips so his boyfriend got an eyeful of the very slightly after-jiggle of his backside. Clint stared long enough that Bucky could actually _feel_ himself flush with pride. Bucky certainly didn’t miss those eyes tracking him as he finished up the last of the sorting.

He had just set aside the last pair of socks with holes when Clint finally rebooted enough of his brain to ask, “Why does it matter that it’s Tuesday?” as he reached around Bucky, picking up the coffee mug and emptying it in one go.

“Laundry day.” Meeting his lover’s confused stare, he leaned back against the folding counter, elbows propped on the counter top. That he now happened to be stretching backwards, posing to show off the abs Clint had been nuzzling at just hours earlier was only a happy coincidence, of course. Bucky caught sight of Barton’s staring from the corner of his eye, hidden by his hair, but kept his gaze ostensibly on the washer and dryer. “I always do laundry on Tuesday if I’m here. You’re just usually out.”

“Why...?”

“Because there are other tenants in this building, Barton, and this is when most of them are working. If seeing me in your underwear bothers _you...”_ Framing himself with his hands as if showing off an object, Bucky turned to face the other man, putting on his best teasing smile, head tossing ineffectually to try and get the hair out of his eyes.

Clint set the mug down, almost missing the counter, clearly keying in to the possibility that this was something of a regular occurrence. “So...” He was leaning forward, just speaking as the washer beeped.

_Perfect._

Turning, Bucky looked at the timer on the dryer: just under three minutes. Absolutely perfect. With a Gallic shrug, he pushed up from his semi-reclined slouch, stepping across to the washers. Though the dryer was still going, there was a second; he swung that door open first, then opened the washer. The smart thing to do would have been to transfer a few garments at a time from washer to dryer. Instead, he grabbed the whole of his own wet laundry, hefting it into the dryer in one run, but leaving him rather wet down the front.

Bucky kept his face impassive, almost blank, but he couldn’t keep the hint of teasing out of his voice.“So, now we start your washes. You do darks, and I’ll do…” He drew the word out, making a show of giving his boyfriend a once-over as he turned back to the sorted clothing. “Hmm… the denim and lights.”

He grabbed a laundry pod, scooping the jeans and assorted t-shirts. Clint seemed to be on a bit of a delay getting his other clothes – surely not because Bucky had _accidentally_ dropped half the clothes on the floor, forcing him to bend over and pick them up – and was still shoving t-shirts into the other washer long after Bucky was finished.

As Clint finished up, Bucky took a moment to consider his options. The timer on the dryer was flashing one. Less than a minute, then. He bent, pushing the briefs, and no small amount of trepidation, down. He wasn’t one for public nudity, but maybe just this once. Clint’s hand was reaching to close the door. “Hey, you missed a pair.”

In the next moment, three things happened, right on time.

First, Clint turned, eyes focusing only a moment on the offered pair of underwear grasped between metal fingers before he blinked – and, damn, was it hot to see his gaze shift in that moment, eyes going all pupils – and refocused on Bucky, head tilted gently to one side, hair almost falling in his eyes, naked and still wet from the laundry.

Second, Bucky pressed his lips together, fighting a genuine smirk and asking, “Doll, you wanna take this?”

And, third, just as Clint opened his mouth to reply, the dryer cut off, cheerily beeping out synthesized calliope music into the small basement room.

Startled by the sound, Barton glanced automatically over his shoulder, fixing the dryer with a look that could only be categorized as wrathfully betrayed.

“Clint.” Bucky wondered how the other man didn’t twist his own head off, whipping it around so quickly. He shook the briefs, brows raising as he nodded toward the still-open washer. “Are you going to take these?”

When Clint only nodded, eyes tracing over his body, again, but making no move to actually follow through, Bucky stepped up to the washer himself, a hair’s breadth from a full-body press against the other man. He tossed the underwear in with the rest of the darks – “Never mind, then.” – before ducking under Clint’s arm.

Opening the dryer, he pulled out his go-to pair of lounge pants – technically Hawkeye merch, but grey and so buttery soft, with just the right amount of cling – and shimmied into them. His contented sigh wasn’t exaggerated; he never would have thought electric dryers would be one of his favourite things about the future, but warm, fresh clothes were just heavenly.

Bucky hazarded a sideways look through his hair back to Clint who still stood, hand on the open washer door, eyes fixed at the level of Bucky’s hips, breath just shallow enough to be noticeable. Ignoring the hungry presence of his boyfriend, Bucky slid the basket beneath the dryer, emptying the rest of his clothes into it. He tucked his hair back behind his ears, then hefted the basket, setting it against his hip.

Walking back to the door gave him to opportunity to lean up, pressing a kiss to Clint’s cheek. “I’m taking these back up. Keep an eye on that next load for me, will ya, doll?”

As he climbed the Steps, he heard his lover finally shut the door, muttering softly. “Uh… sure… yeah.”


End file.
